


6 Times the Avengers Had a Break In and the One Time They Did the Breaking In

by ms_nawilla



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Bad Deeds Punished, Breaking and Entering, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon secret resurrection, Clint's History of BAD Relationships, Commando Invasion, Drunkenness, Gen, Good Deeds Rewarded, Great Depression, Hospitals, Mayhem, Minor Injuries, Movie Reference, Original Characters - Freeform, Pantsless Selvig, Physics, Police, Poverty, Property Destruction, Psychologically unhinged fans, Raisins, Star Trek Cosplay, Trashed apartments/hotel rooms/dwellings/facilities, pre-SHIELD Natasha, tracksuit mafia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_nawilla/pseuds/ms_nawilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each of the Phase 1 Avengers has suffered a break in to their home or temporary dwelling at some point in their lives.  All together, they have also staged a break in of their own. </p><p>Written for a friend to cheer her up after she had her home broken into.  (Posted with permission).</p><p>(Note: the Big Bang Theory Crossover only occurs in Chapter 6).</p><p>Six out of seven chapters are complete and my June writing goal is the Plus One.  Also on the lookout for anyone interested in a beta read on later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve Rogers

“Come on, Bucky, we’re almost home.”  Steve struggled to hold his friend upright.  Bucky had always helped him get home after a fight he probably should have just walked away from.  It was only fair to help his best buddy after a night of drinking that Bucky that should have ended sooner.  “We’ll get you home and have a cup of tea and then you can sleep.”  The taller man lurched dangerously as they reached their apartment, but Steve managed to keep them both upright.  Barely.  “No fair falling asleep before I get the door open.”

“Iz absolutely fair,” Bucky slurred as Steve leaned him against the wall.  “Door’s open.”

“What?”  Steve glanced up at the door and drunk as he was, Bucky was right.  The door was slightly open, and the cheap lock the owner had put on was busted.  “Oh, no.”

“Told you.  Can we go in?”

“Bucky, be quiet!”  Steve stared at the door apprehensively.  Bucky was in no condition to help, not that he could do anything if whoever had broken in had a gun.  He wondered if he should go in, or call the police, but the nearest phone was all the way on the corner and he had barely had enough strength to get Bucky up the stairs.  He couldn’t take him back down and couldn’t leave him alone.

Cautiously, Steve peered around the door into their small studio.  They didn’t have much but what they did have was in complete disarray.  The Murphy bed had been opened up, and the mattress had been pushed out of place.  The dresser drawers were all pulled open and rummaged through, and the cabinet doors next to the tiny stove were all opened.  Cautiously, Steve picked up an umbrella and held it over his head as he switched on the lights.  The shadows retreated, revealing no intruders but the damage was already done.

“All clear?” Bucky asked, a little too loud.

Steve sighed, “All clear.”

With a nod, Bucky slid down the wall, then belched.  “Good.”

Steve checked in the open closet, but no one was there.  With a sigh, he went back out into the hall to drag Bucky inside.  Tea could wait.  Right now the most pressing concern was securing the door until he could find the super tomorrow.

Bucky woke in the morning with a pounding headache and a view of the bureau.  Which was unusual, because most mornings the first thing he saw was the apartment door.  Too confused to figure this out on his own, he reached out to poke Steve on the other side of the bed.

“Hmmm?”  Steve swatted at his hand but didn’t wake up.

Bucky poked harder. 

“What?”

“Yeah,” Bucky croaked in agreement, but his throat wasn’t nearly as parched as it should have been.  For all the weirdness, Steve must have gotten him to drink some water before he fell asleep.  “You redecorate?”

“Hmm?”  Steve sat up, looking at the dresser he had managed to shove in front of the door, then looked back at Bucky, who was staring at the bedframe across the room.

“Why’s the mattress on the floor?”

“It was too hard to put it back by myself.”  Steve sighed.  “Whoever broke in, they got the money we kept under the bed.  They took the change jar too.”  He grimaced.  “They also took the porridge and the bread, so there’s nothing for breakfast.”

Bucky flopped back on the bed and put a hand over his eyes.  “Did they go through my drawer?  Because as drunk as I was, I didn’t actually bring most of my pay to the bar last night.”

“Our socks and underwear were thoroughly ransacked.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.”

“You okay?”

Steve punched his pillow, but it didn’t get any thicker or more comfortable when he rolled over to face Bucky and lay back down.  “Yes.  They were long gone when I got you home.”

“Who would rob us?  We don’t have anything worth taking.”

Steve shrugged.  “Someone with even less than us.  They took our food and money.  They left your cufflinks and my dad’s watch.”

Bucky peered at him from under his arm.  “They didn’t pawn our stuff?”

“No, not that they would get very much.  The last time we tried to put our stuff in hock no one would take it.”

Bucky covered his eyes, glad that Steve hadn’t figured out why the local pawn shop wouldn’t take his stuff.  They both had so little left from their families.  They weren’t that desperate.  Yet. 

“They left a note in the kitchen.”  Steve stared at the cracks in the ceiling.  “It was an apology from whoever broke in.  Said they only took the cash and food to feed their kids, but wouldn’t take our good stuff.” 

“Hmm.”  Bucky’s stomach growled, despite the hangover.  “Did they leave us _any_ food?”

“Tea.  And raisins.”

“And no money.”

“Yes, Bucky.  No money.”

Bucky glanced back at the door.  He didn’t remember the police coming by the night before.  His crazy best friend must have gone into the apartment alone, because he had clearly been in no shape to help.  They’d have to talk about that later.  Getting beat up by a smart aleck was one thing, but going up against a potential robber was something else.

Beside him, Steve sighed again, part resignation, part asthma.  If it came to it, he wasn’t _that_ attached to his cufflinks.

“Steve, it’s going to be okay.”

“I know, Bucky.” 

They were both quiet for a long time, putting off having to face the world for as long as possible.

“I really hate raisins, Bucky.”

Despite the pain in his head, Bucky laughed.


	2. Tony Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper had some unexpected guests in his hotel room. Pre-Iron Man.

“Oh my _God!_ ”  Pepper didn’t whine.  She didn’t wail, scream or cry.  But she did yell. “Tony, you had a break in!”

Tony looked around the lounge of his five-star hotel room.  His notes were on the floor, half-filled glasses were strewn everywhere, and his laptop was open to porn.  Come to think of it, he _had_ shut his laptop down before going to lunch.

_Ewww_.

He followed the sound of Pepper’s voice to the bedroom where his personal assistant had gone to set out his suit for dinner. 

As much of a slob as he was, he was quite sure not all of this mess was his.

“Um?” The large, cedar-trimmed walk in closet was open and all of his suits were on the floor, rumpled and bunched as if someone had laid them all out and then rolled in them. The drawers were all pulled out, his rock t-shirts and jeans rooted through and picked over. A glance in the bathroom revealed his cologne and aftershave had all been sampled.  Judging from the faint smell of vomit, his liquor had been too.

“Did they steal anything?” 

Pepper looked at him incredulously.  “You can’t tell?”

Tony shrugged. He usually left rooms in disarray, but if he had made the mess, he knew where everything was. And if he hadn’t he had people like Pepper to put them back in remotely logical places.  “It looks like it would all fit in my suitcases.” He started tapping on his phone. “JARVIS, can you do an inventory?” He turned the phone and started snapping pictures of the mess.

“I’ve already started, Sir.  Also, I am tracking your digital camera.  The burglars used it to document their exploits and are now apparently using the playback feature to show off to their comrades.”

“Did they take any other electronics, JARVIS?”  Pepper was always the practical one.

“Only the afore-mentioned camera and the garage door opener for the house in Malibu. I’ve already taken the liberty of changing the frequency.”

“Good thinking, J.”  Tony frowned at the large California king bed.  It looked like someone had held a disco and a pizza party in it. Quite possibly not in that order.

“Well, as tragic as this is, I guess this means I won’t be able to go to that dinner meeting you think is so important.”  He held up the hem of his charcoal t-shirt, a Stark Industries recruitment gift that read ‘ _STARK Raving Mad’_ in brilliant red letters.  “I can’t go dressed so . . . unprofessionally.”

Pepper leveled him with a look.  “Your spare suit is in my room.  I bring it in my carryon in the event your luggage gets lost.  Or you forget to pack.”

“Really?” Tony couldn’t decide whether he was impressed or disappointed. 

“Yeah, come on.” She reached out for his shampoo, then made a disgusted face as she thought better of it.  “I’ll have the concierge send up fresh toiletries and you can shower and change in my room.”  Pepper looked around the suite, clearly still angry, but more for him that at him.  It was weird, but nice.

“Okay.” Pepper was going to take care of it, but for now she was on the warpath.  It was probably best to just agree and go quietly. “Should I grab anything?” Tony contemplated the mess. “Socks?  Shoes?  Boxers?” He had no idea what Pepper kept in her bag of tricks. 

“That’s covered.” She paused in front of a dresser that looked like a tornado had gone through it.  “Um, Tony, I think they took all of your underwear.”

Tony blinked. It was rare that he was so stunned by knowledge that he couldn’t make a smart-ass remark about it.  

“That’s . . .”

Pepper backed away from the dresser suddenly.  “We’re leaving.  You’re going to my room to change and I will have Legal rain down lawsuits and brimstone on hotel security and I will have the concierge get you some new underwear but we are leaving this room _now._ ” She grabbed him forcibly by the arm and pulled him toward the hallway.

“What’s the matter, Pep?”  Tony willingly allowed himself to be carried along by Hurricane Virginia. 

“Tony, _trust me_ , you don’t want to know.”

“I don’t?” Tony watched Pepper slam the door shut, then followed her down the hall to her own room.

“There are some things you can’t unsee, Tony.”  She actually shuddered.

His cell vibrated in his pocket and he turned on the speakerphone for JARVIS _._

“I concur, Miss Potts.  I wish you could delete your files as easily as I can mine.”

“Do I want to know, J?”

Pepper glared at him over her shoulder as she unlocked the door to her room.

“No Sir, you really don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know what Pepper saw. I'll leave it to your imagination.
> 
> Still on the hunt for a beta if anyone is interested. Where do all the cool kids go for this?
> 
> Hope you are enjoying the fic. Part 7 is humming along. :D


	3. Natasha Romanov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently someone was stupid enough to enter the Widow's lair uninvited.
> 
> Thank you very much to the pinch hitting beta! Blame additional mistakes on me and my old eyes.

The cool blonde stepped out of the shadows, gun pointed steadily at the thin, slight man in the trenchcoat and fedora.  She smirked at her target as he held out a large accordion folder of sensitive documents with a shaking hand, then snatched it from him.  He barely had a chance to put his hands up in a gesture of surrender before she fired off a warning shot, then flounced off into the darkness.  The thin man shrunk in on himself, melting into the dim as if more afraid of the light than the woman as he slunk off toward the nearest subway platform.  The blonde spared him a brief glance when she reached the corner furthest from the embassy, but he was already gone.

Fifteen minutes later, the thin timid man no longer existed.  The hat and false beard lay at the bottom of a moldering trash bin, the trenchcoat was pinned, buttoned, and tied to accentuate a well-formed feminine physique, and the wig and bobby pins had been removed to release a crown of brilliant red curls.  Across the city, the blonde was searching through the stolen documents for state secrets, unaware of the deadly neurotoxin in the ink that had already seeped through her skin.

Despite the name, the Black Widow was an equal opportunity assassin.

Several train transfers and costume changes later, a young woman in heavy boots and a tattered sweater climbed the stairs to the sixth floor of a non-descript apartment building where no one asked questions and nobody knew your name.

The door to the safehouse looked like it always did, but Natalia Romanova examined it thoroughly before picking the lock and disabling the Red Room-style security system.  Sometimes she found blood, skin or fingertips in the first booby trap.  Once she had even found a whole human thumb.  But no, it was clean.  If anyone had entered by the front door, they were very good.

Once inside, she began her perimeter check.  Fire escape clear, windows secure, no one hiding in the bathroom, in the closet, or under the bed.  No new bloodstains or injured parties.  The hidden security cameras were not tampered with, and no intruders had been reported.  Finally letting her guard down, Natalia closed the curtains and opened the one cabinet that could not be seen on the security cameras, either her own or her employer’s.

Her go bag was still there.  There was also a small arrow stuck into the inner surface of the door.

Whoever it was, they were very, very good.

The arrow had been used to pin up a small white envelope addressed to ‘the Lady of the House.’  Hand shaking for real this time, Natalia took both down, examining them with gloves and goggles.  She might be rattled, but she was not going to be taken down by one of her own tricks.  The arrow did not have any identifying or manufacturer’s marks, but it was distinctive.  Probably custom-made for a small cross-bow device.  Covert, good for short distances.  It also looked as if it had been driven in by hand, so whoever the intruder was had actually been inside the safehouse.  The letter inside was typewritten and unsigned; par for the course.  There were several typographical errors, which was more unusual.

_Dear Deadly Lady with the Homicidal Security System,_

_As you are no doubt aware, we have been tracking you since Berlin._

Very, very good.  She had been certain she had lost them in Stockholm.

_I am sure you believe we have orders to kill you, and you would be right, but we have been watching you and I think we can make you a better offer.  Our organization would value someone with your skills, and no one should have to be a slave, even if they’re a murder for hire._

_My boss is backing me on giving you a choice, because he’s a great guy and he believes in me, even though my resume has a lot of blood on it too that it shouldn’t have had.  But he can’t back this forever, so if you want to talk more, come see us at the little café with the green door tomorrow at noon.  We’ll have some coffee and kifli and talk about choices and we won’t try to kill you until everything’s on the table and you decide._

_\--a future friend (we hope?)_

A small, white business card was stapled to the bottom of the letter.  The words _Bossman’s Card_ were scrawled next to it in purple glitter ink, along with a winking smiley face.  The card had the eagle logo of SHIELD and an agent number, but no other identifying information.

She sneered at the card.  _SHIELD?  Really?_   She was Natalia Romanova, the Red Room’s finest, the elegant scalpel of the KGB and . . . .

And a murderer, left out in the cold as the last gasps of the Cold War petered out, as the last of the old guard drank themselves to death.  She could stay and plunder what she could from the dying husk or sell herself to the highest bidder and bathe every night in the blood that bought her supper, or . . . .

She looked back down at the letter and the white card, then pulled out her little black book of covert intel.  The numbered agent on the card had three entries.  Sergey had said he was just a paper pusher, no real threat.  Just before SHIELD removed him from play.  Isadora from Minsk had said he was dangerous, not to screw with him, and to never get between him and children.  Black Konstantin had said he was a little weird and held up under interrogation but if you crossed him to watch out for the crazy sniper he had picked up from the circus.

_That explains the arrows._   Natalia carefully stepped further away from the curtained window.

. . . _he’s a great guy and he believes in me . . ._

She knew the café; it was a few blocks over, near the markets.  She could conveniently scope out the area when she bought her groceries and decide tomorrow, if she wanted to.  Not that she should, because really, the whole idea was ridiculous.  Who did they think they were, breaking into her safehouse, her inner sanctum, to give her _career advice_ of all things?  Who _the hell_ did they think they were; she could have killed them, her security system could have killed them or ended Arrow Boy’s circus career permanently?  Who the hell did they think they were, coming in carefully to avoid tripping off the cameras and hiding their message where only she would see it?

Very, very, very good.

_Maybe they believe in you too_.

It was only coffee.  And this was Budapest, not Kiev.  Bad things always happened in Kiev.

Natalia Romanova carefully tucked the card and letter back in the envelope, then put both in her go bag before checking the locks, changing the passcodes, and resetting the security system.  She showered, washing off the makeup, the blood, and the guilt, then climbed into bed, resigned to a sleepless night in a compromised safehouse that she couldn’t leave without tipping anyone off.  She didn’t wake up until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on part 7. The giant work project is over, leaving only the smaller work stuff, so yay. Maybe I'll even meet my goal and finish it by the end of the month.


	4. Bruce Banner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Ross may be chasing the Hulk, but someone else is watching Bruce Banner's back.

Exhausted, wet, and disheartened, Bruce Banner stumbled out of the forestland, his current expedition have proven fruitless and futile.  As eager as he had been to get samples of river mud downstream from the nuclear power plant in Gujarat, coming during the monsoon season had been a serious miscalculation.

“Not your best plan ever,” he mumbled to himself as he boarded the bus he hoped would take him back to the tiny room he had been renting in town.  It had been a long shot anyway.  A recent study had found that native bacteria in the mud surrounding poorly managed nuclear power stations had evolved the ability to not only withstand low, chronic exposure to gamma radiation; some isolated strains even appeared to metabolize the energy output.  Hence the ill-fated river diving trip during a very wet and sudden onset of torrential rain.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he would know how to culture the bacteria once he had it.  Hell, even Betty wouldn’t know how.  But Betty would know who would know and would have put him in touch with the right people.  But Betty wasn’t here, and thanks to her father’s ruthless pursuit, he couldn’t contact her without being tracked. 

Of course, if Betty’s father had gotten off of his case, he wouldn’t have been in India to begin with.  He would have been in an English-speaking country, camping outside a nuclear facility.  Hell, he could have just gone scuba diving in the Susquehanna River off Three Mile Island.  The bacteria there had had longer to evolve anyway.

The bus ride was loud, bumpy, noisy, crowded, and at some point he ended up holding a caged chicken for a seatmate with too many purchases.  In other words, normal.  He smiled at the bittersweet memory of deciding against riding the New York City subway with Betty.  He’d come a long way since then at keeping the Monster at bay.

The driver let him off on the outskirts of the neighborhood where he had been hiding out.  Unsurprisingly, it was still raining, though not as hard as it had been near the river.  Still, he was going to have to wring himself out when he got home.  Fortunately he had left some dry clothes and his computer back in his room.

Bruce was just about to turn the corner to his street when a hissing voice called to him from a dark alley.

“Hey, Doc Hollywood, how ‘bout you come in for a tea?”

“What?”  He could just make out the face of Kalidasa, the local proprietor of the only restaurant where Bruce safely felt he could avoid food poisoning, but could still afford to eat. 

Kalidasa cut his eyes toward Bruce’s building, then looked back.  “First monsoon, it’s on the house.”  He tipped his head subtly to indicate Bruce should come in.  Up ahead, the street was clear.  No vendors, no shoppers, no prostitutes.  No police.

Bruce nodded.  “Hot tea would be great right now.”

The other man grinned, though his eyes were still tense.  “You should not be out on such a night.  You’ll get sick and then where will you be?”

“Right.”  Bruce followed the man down the alley and into the restaurant from the back entrance.  Kalidasa’s wife, Mitra was there at the door and draped them both in dry towels as soon as they came in, clucking at the scientist’s sopping wet clothes.  Chandra, one of the staff that Bruce was fairly certain was also one of Kalidasa’s daughters, came in with a tea service and began pouring both men a fresh cup.

Bruce really hoped he wasn’t going to have to Hulk Out in the middle of their restaurant kitchen.

“You don’t want to go home right now, Doc Hollywood.”

As far as Bruce could tell, Kalidasa gave all foreigners nick names he had picked up from their native cinema.  He had tried to explain that he wasn’t that kind of doctor, but this far from the universities no one seemed to care.

“Police raid?”  He knew some of his neighbors were into illegal activities, but that’s why they were his neighbors.  He couldn’t afford anything nicer, and he wanted to avoid anyone who had ever heard of him professionally.  Or who had heard of the Other Guy.

“Not police, no.  American GI Joes, not here to save Private Ryan.”

_Oh crap._   “Do you, um, know who they’re after?”  Even Bruce wasn’t convinced by that question.

Kalidasa rolled his eyes.  “Some crazy American scientist who likes to go swimming during the monsoon.”  The dark-skinned man peered out the door.  “One man came in looking for you just after you left, asking questions.  The Joes followed, and the troops ate here, not the officers.  Talk, talk, talk all the time, like we common people can’t speak the Queen’s English.  The troops hope he escapes, by the way.  They think General Zod is crazy.”

Bruce stared at the wall as if he could see his now occupied apartment building through the bricks.  “Thank you for the warning,” he held up his cup.  “And the tea.  I should go.”  He moved to put the cup back on the tray, but Chandra intercepted him, refilling his cup.  Mitra clucked at him again and replaced the wet towel on his shoulders with a dry one.

Kalidasa stared at him a moment as if he were insane.  “Where do you think you would go now?  They are all looking for Lex Luthor to break back into his lab.  You stay here, Doc Hollywood.  Drink your tea.  Have some food.  You leave when it’s dark and the GI Joes won’t find you.”

Bruce grimaced but Kalidasa was right.  He couldn’t safely get his things from his room if Ross’s men were lying in wait.  His clothes he could replace, but losing his computer and all of his research was a real blow.  Still, he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, and it wasn’t as if he had found an effective treatment anyway, just a bunch of dead ends. 

Mitra had taken his backpack from him, clearly disapproving of the water actively dripping from it, and was now pushing him toward the stairs, urging him to change into dry clothes.  Reluctantly, Bruce climbed up to the family’s living space to wash up with the hot water and soap Chandra had provided with a silent smile. 

When he was mostly dried off with Mitra’s seemingly endless supply of towels, Bruce turned to the clean clothes to find they were oddly familiar.  He could dismiss the shirt and pants as coming from the same grade of cheap clothing he had bought locally, but the tennis shoes were clearly the pair he had picked up somewhere near Rochester where he had run to after laying waste to Harlem.  Somehow Kalidasa had gotten his clothes.  _Was this a trap, an attempt to take him out quietly?  Was there something in the tea?_

Bruce was just about to make himself vomit into the washbasin when there was a knock at the door, _shave-and-a-haircut_.  Kalidasa peered around the door, knocking out the _two-bits_ on the frame.  “Hurry and dress, Doc Hollywood, your ride is nearly here.”  He had a dry backpack, used but functional.  “Chandra dried your things and wrapped your computer in plastic so it will be safe from the rain.  Mitra is packing you some food for your journey.”

“How did you get my computer?  And my clothes?” 

Kalidasa rolled his eyes again.  “It’s easy to lie to GI Joes, especially when they don’t want to fight.  We sent them in to raid the opium dealers living above you.  They were out of town and had all the toys for cooking drugs, so they thought it was your room.  Then we had Vivian and Satine get dolled up and take some boys into your place to get your stuff.  Two birds with one stone.  You get to escape and the G.I. Joes get rid of our drug dealers.”

Bruce had been searching through the pack, stunned to find his most important possessions intact.  His computer, his memory sticks, his handwritten notebook, his extra spectacles.  The contents of his sodden backpack had been picked through, and the useful items had been dried and packed in this new one, while the empty specimen jars had been left behind.  He could always get more jars, but the crucial supplies were all present and accounted for.  Another _shave-and-a-haircut_ and Kalidasa let Mitra in, carrying a clean duffel bag.

“Ah, my lovely wife has washed your clothes.  Satine was able to get them but they reeked of perfume.  And we have packed you food for the journey.  It won’t get you all the way to Kolkata, but it will get you some of the way.  My brother is headed that way tonight with his transport company, and if you are willing to help load and unload his wares, he will take you as far as you want to go.”

Bruce stared at him, astonished.  “Thank you, but why are you so willing to help me?  You have to know it is dangerous to hide me.”

Kalidasa tsked at him, while Mitra pulled him into a hug and smoothed back his cowlicks like she did with her own children.

“You are a good man, Doc Hollywood.  You try to hide in the shadows, but you help people who are in trouble.  You patched up my son when he fell in the street, you helped Mitra carry heavy boxes, you fixed the stove when it broke, and you gave Satine food when her pimp threw her out.  You are running from something, but you are still a good man.  You stay safe, Doc Hollywood.  We will tell the GI Joes you never came back from your swim.  Maybe you were eaten by the crocodiles?  Happens to a few American tourists every year who don’t mind the signs.”

Bruce nodded and held out his hand.  “Thank you.  I don’t know how I can repay you, I don’t have much money.”

Kalidasa raised an eyebrow as they shook hands.  “You keep your money, Doc Hollywood.  My brother needs a skilled man on his crew.  You help to fix his machines like you did with the neighbors here, and you’ll more than earn your keep and pay him back.”  He smiled grimly.  “His trucks break down _all the time_.  He needs you.”

Mitra smiled at him.  “You are a special man.  There is no repayment needed.  We know you will help someone else soon enough.”  She held out a purple hooded sweatshirt, brand new and clean.  “The truck is here.  We have a box you can hide in that Vijay will load onto the truck.  The Americans with guns will be none the wiser.”  She kissed his cheek.  “The opium dealers were going to Afghanistan, so they will look for you there.  Go with Vijay and they will not find you.”

Bruce heartily thanked them both again, then climbed into the shipping box, and calmed his breathing as the lid was fastened loosely enough to give him air, but secure enough not to fall off.  He could hear Kalidasa and a man he recognized as Vijay speaking in their native tongue.  Kalidasa gave another _shave-and-a-haircut_ knock, and Vijay tapped out the _two-bits_ on the other side when the box was secure on the truck. 

“You stay safe, Doc Hollywood,” Kalidasa whispered as he cracked open the lid.  “Vijay will let you out when you leave the district.”  One more tap to the box and he was gone and the truck was pulling away from the loading dock, the sound of the rain loud on the roof.  Bruce kept his calm as the truck maneuvered down the narrow streets, then turned onto the bridge that led to the larger municipalities.  They were briefly stopped by toll takers, but Kalidasa was right; General Ross’s men never crossed their path.  By the time one of the trucks broke down in Madhya Pradesh, Bruce was almost relaxed.

* * *

The next morning, a well-dressed man in a dark suit came into Kalidasa’s restaurant just after it opened and ordered hot tea.  Mitra brought the tray wordlessly, while her husband sat down with the stranger.

“I take it our friend made it out of town safely last night?”  The man pulled a handsome sum in rupees out of his jacket pocket and looked at Kalidasa speculatively through his glasses.

“Hmmph,” Kalidasa waved away the money, then sipped his own tea.  “Alas, he has not come back from his trip to the river, Agent J.  I fear we will have to tell the GI Joes that we will never see him again.”

“That’s too bad.”  He added more sugar to his own cup and stirred it thoroughly, frowning at the nick-name.  “And was your brother able to hire anyone for his trip?  You had said he was having trouble with that.”

Kalidasa smiled grimly.  “Hmm, it is no longer a problem.”

“Good.  That’s good.”  The other man picked up the English menu, reading it over while he slipped the small pile of rupees onto the table within Kalidasa’s reach. 

“You and Agent K. can keep your money.”  Kalidasa made no move toward the cash. 

The man smiled.  “I’m sure a good businessman like you can put it to good use, if not for yourself, than to pass it on to those who need it.  Now, what are the specials today?”

After some bargaining back and forth, Kalidasa was persuaded to take the money offered as part of a very large tip on a hot meal.  After the proprietor left, the man in the suit took out his cell phone.

“According to the locals he’s gone and made it out safe.  The troops haven’t taken the bait yet, but they haven’t followed either.”

“ _Chatter on the lines indicates they will soon.  They are sending out a pair of soldiers to find his campsite, but they don’t believe he’s left the area.  Good work._ ”

The man in the suit smiled as Chandra brought over a tray full of steaming dishes and began laying them out, making small talk on his phone in the otherwise empty dining room until she went back into the kitchen. 

“There may be a problem though, Sir.”  He glanced back toward the kitchen door, but no one came out.  “I was very careful not to give any names, but he called me ‘Agent J.’  And he said that ‘Agent K’ and I could keep our money.  Do you think he talked to the General, Sir?”

The man in the suit frowned sourly at the sound of his superior chortling over a secure comm line.

“ _That’s a_ Men in Black _reference, Jasper.  He doesn’t actually know your name_.”

“What?”    

“ _You need to read more comic books, Jasper.  Or see the movies._ ”

“I’ve seen that movie.  Which one is Agent J?”

“ _Will Smith._ ”

“So what, you’re supposed to be Tommy Lee Jones?”

More annoying laughter.  Jasper gritted his teeth. 

“ _Of course.  I’m your S.O. and the Director only lets me drive the flying car._ ”

“Speaking of transports, how am I getting out of here?”

“ _I’m sending you coordinates now.  Lola and I will pick you up in two hours.  And get your lunch now.  No eating in the car._ ”

Jasper rolled his eyes.  Coulson really needed a girlfriend more human than the oldest car in the company fleet.  “Sir, yes Sir.”


	5. Clint Barton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past comes back to haunt Clint Barton, both good and bad.
> 
> Takes place before the fall of SHIELD.

“We’re almost there.”

Clint grunted in acknowledgement as the car rolled to a halt, rousing himself from near sleep.

“Come on, I’ll even carry your bow case if it will help me pour you into bed sooner.”

Clint smiled sleepily as he opened the door and stood up on the sidewalk outside his apartment building.  “Thanks, Katie-Kate.”  He yawned dramatically, stretching until his joints cracked noisily, then wincing as he rubbed at his lower back from being in the Quinjet and then the car for too long.  “Aw, sciatica.”  

Kate patted his shoulder gently as she came from the trunk, his bow case and duffel in hand.  He managed to get the bag from her and was almost totally awake by the time they started walking up the steps of his building.

“Hey, Bro!” a voice called from down the street.

Clint snapped to full awareness as both he and Kate whirled to face the intruder.  Kate dropped the case at his feet and pulled out a pair of battle staves, while Clint knelt down, reaching for his recurve as he pulled out a large knife. 

The tracksuit clad man at the foot of the stairs stopped short, hands up, “Yo, Bro, I’m not here to fight.”  He smiled, unconvincingly.  “I’m just the messenger, Bro.”

Clint and Kate shared a knowing glance, then looked back at the man, neither putting their weapons down.  The Tracksuit Draculas had been a thorn in his side for a while, but then there had been that interview with Anderson Cooper, and the time he had run into a whole herd of them in a wine bar when he had been out with his teammates.  After both Thor and Natasha had drunken a whole table full of lieutenants under the table, and then kicked ass on the remaining foot soldiers in an impromptu street brawl, they had realized he was in fact _that Hawkeye_.  While they had not liked his interference, they decided to leave him alone because he had in fact helped save the world from aliens, so maybe they could let the whole thing go.

Clint still didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them.  _Hell, I don’t trust them as far as Lucky could throw them, and Pizza Dog doesn’t even have arms_.

The man below them grinned wider to look less threatening, then made a concerned face.  It was so exaggerated, it was almost funny.  “Hey, we just wanted to let you know, now that you are home, that we’re not the ones messing with you now.”  For a moment he looked afraid.  “We didn’t do it, Bro, so please don’t come shooting us up with your pointy arrows.”

Clint raised an eyebrow.  “You’re not the ones messing with me?”  He had just gotten back from a SHIELD mission in one of the small South American dictatorships.  Or maybe two.  They were in the disputed borderlands so he wasn’t entirely certain exactly how many countries he had been in, much less which ones.  He was unaware anyone was currently messing with him, but it had been a while so he was probably due.

The man nodded.  “That’s right, Bro.  Not us.”  He held his hands up, backing away.  “We’re not that stupid.  The red-haired Nikita scares us.”  With another weak grin, he turned on his heel and ran off down the street.

Clint and Kate shared another look and shrugged. 

“What the hell was that all about?”

Kate shook her head as she put away her weapons, then picked up the bow case again.  “Beats me.  Although you did pick up a few new trolls on your Tumblr page while you were gone.”

“I have a Tumbler page?”  Clint yawned again.  “Is that the one that’s Facebook for current and former acrobats?”

“That’s the _Electric Sideshow_ , and it’s for circus, carnival and sideshow performers.  You don’t get trolls there, because the regular carnies who know you can out-troll the trolls.  And can throw knives.  Tumblr,” Kate rolled the ‘r’ for emphasis, “is the one with all the pictures on it that you lurk on to review your form and check for Natasha to see if her field suits make her butt look big.”

“I thought that blog was called _Another!_ ”  Clint grumbled as they reached the floor with his apartment.

Kate smiled at him, amused by his out-of-touch fogey-ness.  “That’s just what Darcy calls her Tumblr page.”

Clint grinned back, remembering the dark-haired spitfire in New Mexico, as he opened the door to his apartment.  As he flicked on the lights, his jaw dropped at the scene of utter chaos that greeted him.

“What the _hell_?”

“Holy shit!”  Kate was equally stunned.  “I know you’re a mess, Hawkeye, but even you aren’t _this_ bad.”

The apartment wasn’t just messy, it had been intentionally trashed.  All of his clothes had been removed from his dresser and closets and had been dumped on the floor with his dirty socks.  They were flecked with dried stains that appeared to be the condiments from his refrigerator if the empty squeeze bottles all over the floor were any indication.  Streamers of toilet paper were draped over the blades of the ceiling fan, the kitchen table and the handrail along the stairs to the loft.  His bedsheets were shredded and hanging from said loft like intentionally Goth curtains.  The couch was overturned with fresh gashes in the cushions bleeding stuffing, and condoms from the large box he had purchased just before he left, _because he was a responsible adult, damn it_ , had all been removed from their foil packs and used to adorn his kitchen cabinet knobs, his doorknobs, his mop and broom handles, and various arrows from his practice quiver.  After being decorated, many of his arrows had been plunged into the walls, the doors and most irritatingly, his stereo speakers.  Judging by the angles and the type of damage, they had been driven in by hand _which probably warped the shafts, damn it_ , and not fired from a bow.

“Well,” said Kate after a long look around.  “It really doesn’t seem like a Tracksuit-style hit.”

Clint nodded, still stunned.  “Um, yeah.  That would probably involve more baseball bats and brass knuckles and less prophylactics.”

Kate snorted, despite herself.  “Who the hell would do this?  Who did you piss off?”

Clint shrugged.  “Who _didn’t_ I piss off?”  He frowned suddenly.  “Wait, where’s Lucky?”

Kate’s eyes widened.  “Um, I think Simone was checking in on him, but I don’t know if he was staying with her or staying here.”

“Lucky?  _Lucky_!”  Clint began searching the apartment, sliding in the mess but keeping his feet.  “Lucky, are you here?” 

Kate was about to run down the hall to ask the neighbor when Simone’s door opened and they both heard a faint whine.

“That you, Clint?”  Simone peered out from behind the chain, while the dog whined louder.

“Simone!”  Clint leapt over the wounded couch, winced as his back twinged, then skidded into the doorway.  “Do you have Lucky?  Is he okay?”

Simone opened the door as Clint stepped into the hallway and he was quickly greeted by a frightened but unhurt ball of golden fur.  Clint knelt down to get his doggie hugs and kisses while the dog tried to bond with him on a molecular level. 

“Hey, Lucky.  It’s okay, it’s alright.  Are you okay?  Did the scary men come in and trash our bachelor pad?  It will be okay, Lucky.  We’ll get you some more dog food and a new bed.”  He sniffed, into Lucky’s fur and then frowned.  “And a bath.  After we clean the tub.  A lot.”

“It, um, wasn’t a bunch of men, Clint.”  Simone looked down the hall nervously as if she expected the horde of not-men to come back.  “It was a group of women.”

Clint raised an eyebrow.

“Really tough women,” Simone continued.  “Who were drunk.”

“Sounds like a lot of women you date,” Kate leaned down to pet Lucky who licked her briefly before huddling up against Clint again, both whining and wagging his tail.

“Or used to date.” 

Simone gasped as Kate jumped up to battle stance and Clint looked up, warily.  Lucky pushed against Clint but did not stop wagging.

“Agent Morse.”

Bobbi gave him a knowing look while Simone stared at her, wide-eyed.  “ _Agent_ Barton.”  She nodded at Kate.  “Ms. Bishop.”  Her face broke out in a genuine smile as she bent down to pet the dog.  “ _Hey, Puppy, how are you doing?_ ”  Lucky promptly slobbered all over her hand in delight while Clint looked stunned at Bobbi’s doggie voice and Lucky’s affection.

“Why does my dog know you?  How do you know Kate?”

Simone continued to look at Bobbi in terror.

“How do you know Agent Morse?”  Kate looked at Clint, who raised an eyebrow.  “Um, I mean did you two work together because she did some training with us for the Young Avengers Initiative, but that was all the way in Japan.”  She looked down at Bobbi, who was kneeling across from Clint, scratching Lucky behind the ears.

“I’ve had to drop off SHIELD orders in your apartment before, Barton.  Your dog knows me because I always bring treats.  We even went out on a walk once when you got delayed on that mission in Myanmar.  _Didn’t we, Puppy?  We had a nice walk when Daddy was away shooting bad guys_.”  She smiled up at Kate and Simone, while the latter was trying to signal Clint by pointing at his open apartment door while nodding toward Bobbi.  “I know Barton here pretty well, considering all those missions we’ve been on together.  Plus he used to be my husband.”

Kate made a choking sound, while Simone just stared, slack-jawed. 

“ _You_ were _married_?”  Kate asked, incredulous.

Bobbi shrugged.  “He wasn’t the worst husband ever, we just weren’t right for each other long term.”  She stood up, then looked at Clint almost nervously.  “Um, so, you’ve seen the apartment, right?”

“She was one of _them_ , Clint!”  Simone finally managed to blurt out her message, then slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolts noisily.

Bobbi rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, about that.”

“Hmm.”  Clint stood and crossed his arms, ignoring how Lucky was looking between the three of them and wagging his tail.  He was willing to bet that Bobbi was packing.  And had dog treats.  “I’m listening.” 

“Look, I didn’t want to be involved, but a bunch of SHIELD agents were out drinking after a really bad mission, and I’m not going to name names, but certain people who you used to be involved with starting reminiscing about what you were like as a boyfriend, and well, an ex-boyfriend, and they decided that since you were out of town they wanted to enact revenge.  On your stuff.”

Kate winced.  She knew Clint was crappy boyfriend material.  He never stayed in one relationship long (if he even limited himself to one), he was terrible at communicating, not known for deep feelings in the romantic sense, and lousy at commitments that didn’t involve weapons training.  And he was horrific at handling break ups.  Kate was pretty sure he must actually be good at sex because otherwise she couldn’t imagine how he got any women at all, much less hot ones like, well, Bobbi Morse.

“And you went along with this?”

“Of course not!”  Bobbi huffed and held out an overly large handbag.  “I _pretended_ to go along with it so I could _steal_ your good stuff so those assholes wouldn’t break it all.”  Clint took the bag, reluctantly.  “I also reported them and had SHIELD pick up their sorry asses from the roof of the building and throw them all in holding cells until the cooled off and sobered up.  I don’t care how _emotionally compromised_ they were.  They don’t have the right to pull that shit and they sure as hell shouldn’t be risking other agents lives by trashing the apartment of the hero who always pulls us out of the fire.”  She looked disgusted.  “ _Bitches_.”

“People we know die?”

Bobbi slumped, deflated.  “Two newbies dead, one handler in the hospital, probably brain dead, and one specialist who is going to be forced into retirement.”  She glanced at Kate.  “No one you were close to, but we can talk about it later.”

“Who was the agent in charge?” Clint unzipped the bag and looked inside.

“Hand.  Who else?” Bobbi scowled.  “She actually had the nerve to say the losses were less than expected.”

“No wonder they were mad.”  Clint reached in pulled out an old coffee mug with the words _Failure to plan on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part, unless it involves mad scientists or aliens_ emblazoned on it.  He blinked rapidly.  “Aw, Bobbi.  You saved Coulson’s mug.”  He smiled down at the well-worn cup.  “I had this made for him after Tony Stark blew his own cover at a press conference.  I thought he was going to give Phil an ulcer.”

Bobbi smiled at him and shrugged.  “Like I said, the good stuff.  Phil’s mug.  That photo of your mother that Research and Intelligence found.  The keys to your motorcycle.  Your tablet.  That copy of _Anna Karenina_ that you hide all your safe house information in.  I also brought fresh coffee since yours is all over your bathtub and some stain remover for your clothes.”  She looked embarrassed.  “It was my idea to season your t-shirts in condiments.  The others wanted to shred them, so I thought it was a better alternative.  And I’m sorry about your training arrows, but I did get SHIELD to pick up the Bitch Patrol before they found your field weapons.”

Clint pulled out some small framed photographs of his mother and his brother as a child, sniffing suspiciously.  Kate looked them over, then peeked into the bag.

“Why _Anna Karenina_?”

“I used to use _Catcher in the Rye_ but somebody stole it.  _To read_.”  Clint wiped his nose with the hem of his worn t-shirt.  “Now I just tell everyone Natasha left it here.  No one ever touches it.”  He looked back at Bobbi.  “Thank you for limiting the damage and saving the important stuff.”  He frowned when she made no move to go.  “Was there anything else?”

The buzzer sounded.

“Yup.  Lunch.”  She turned toward the stairs to go meet the delivery man at the front door.  “I ordered you and Bishop some Thai, because knowing you, you haven’t eaten yet.  Then, I’m going to make up your bed with the new sheets at the bottom of that bag so you can sleep while Kate and I get your laundry started and make up a list of what needs to be repaired and replaced.  Sitwell already agreed to dock it from the assholes’ pay.  Said he didn’t want to hear Coulson bitching about SHIELD not taking care of you.”  She hurried down the steps as the buzzer sounded again.  “Bitching from beyond the grave, wooooooo!”

Kate and Clint stared after her.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So that’s your ex-wife?”

“Yeah.”

“And she trashed your apartment with your ex-girlfriends and stole your most important possessions, but brought them back and bought you food.  And sheets.”

“Yup.”

“Wow.”

“I know,” Clint nodded.  “Best ex-wife ever.”

Kate looked at him incredulously.  “Oh God, do you have more than one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only read one volume of Matt Fraction's _Hawkeye_ , so apologies if anyone was out of character.


	6. Thor Odinson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Avengers/Big Bang Theory_ Cross-over Chapter. Certain people who really should know better learn why they should not mess with Asgardians. Particularly Asgardians who are also Avengers. And whether you are right or wrong, it's good to have friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge of physics is limited, but early reports are I didn't mess anything up too badly. 
> 
> Also double thanks to the beta. This is a longer one.

He woke slowly, frowning as he tried to ascertain his surroundings.  The air had a peculiar, bitter odor, as if someone had once tried to make an industrial cleanser out of cat urine.  In the distance, he could hear hushed voices, urgent feet walking back and forth, and piercing above it all, high-pitched beeps and chirps; it was as if the space beyond the door was the habitat of a vast ecosystem of robotic birds, communicating through a jungle of wires and servers.  Cautiously, he cracked his eyes open, peering against the bright overhead lights, then raised his curiously pounding head and squinted down at himself.  After a moment of dizziness, he was able to determine he was lying on a narrow bed, and surprisingly still in his black and gold suit, which had been adorned with several gray fuzzy clumps, like very large dust bunnies, or very small tribbles.  Perturbed by this aberration on his normally pristine uniform, he tried to pluck off the wooly bits, which was how he discovered he had been hand-cuffed to the bed rails.

“What?”

“Oh good,” said a bored voice to his right.  “You’re awake.” 

He turned to find a similarly-dressed blond woman shackled to the adjacent gurney. 

“Is this a dream?”  He frowned as he tugged at the cuffs, his mind finding no conceivable reason why he would be in this predicament.  “Because this really seems more like one of your dreams than one of mine.”

The blonde rolled her eyes.  “It’s not a dream.  Unfortunately.”

He looked down at himself, then back at his companion, raising a skeptical eyebrow.  “Beds.  Handcuffs.  _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ cosplay.  This is _definitely_ your dream.  If it were my dream we would be standing on the bridge and I’d be Spock.  Plus you’re not wearing your glasses.”

She sighed deeply.  “It’s not a dream.  What’s the last thing you remember?”

“You asking me what the last thing I remember is.”  He gave a long-suffering sigh.  “This is a pretty boring dream you’re having here.  I hope the rescue party comes soon.”  He turned to face her.  “Say, do you think you can imagine Leonard Nimoy leading the away team?  I know we’re supposed to be _Next Generation_ , but this décor is going against canon already.”

She thumped the back of her head against the thin mattress, glaring at the ceiling.  “It’s _not_ a dream, but your cognitive deficits are normal and to be expected given your injuries.”

Her words struck him cold.  “ _Cognitive deficits_?”  He forced out a weak laugh.  “Me?  _Cognitive deficits_?”  He tried not to hyperventiliate.  “What cognitive deficits?  What injuries?”

“You got hit in the head and were knocked out.  You’ve been unconscious for approximately 30-60 minutes.  I can’t see my watch to check the time, so I’m estimating based on how full my bladder is.  You’re obviously confused upon awakening since you keep asking me if this is a dream, but I can’t tell if you have serious retrograde amnesia unless you answer my questions.”

He frowned, thinking this over.  “How do I know you aren’t the one with _cognitive deficits_ in this dream?”  That was certainly a much better scenario than his precious brain being compromised.

“If this were my dream, we wouldn’t _both_ be hand-cuffed.”

He couldn’t argue with that one.  “The last thing I remember is coming back to the hotel from the National Physics Academy Conference to get ready for the Costumed Social.”  He looked down at himself.  “I wasn’t allowed to go dressed as Spock.”

“Yes, that’s correct.  You’re dressed as Lieutenant Data.  The Academy issued a moratorium on Kirk and Spock costumes because of a riot at the social a few years back.  Did you dress as Spock that year?”

“No, ow.”  He tried to shake his head, but winced as he found a sore spot on the back of his skull.  “I went as Pluto to protest its reclassification as a dwarf planet.”

“Hmm, mild retrograde amnesia.  Long-term memories seem intact.  You’ll probably recover with minimal disability.”

He cut his eyes toward her, noting that the light blonde wig had begun to slip off her head.  “You still haven’t explained why we’re in this room, hand-cuffed to beds.  Are you sure _you_ aren’t the one with _cognitive deficits_ , Amy?”

“Tasers aren’t powerful enough to alter memory unless the subject loses consciousness, usually from falling and striking their head.”  She sniffed.  “Unfortunately, I fell into a pile of dirty laundry, but I was able to remain aware throughout the ordeal.  The reason we’re wearing handcuffs is because the police arrested us before taking us to the hospital.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“While I’m not yet willing to concede that I have retrograde amnesia as opposed to being trapped in one of your hormonally-induced sexually perverted fantasies, I cannot fathom a situation in which we would both be assaulted, arrested, and hospitalized.  While in Star Fleet uniforms.”

Amy turned to look him in the eye, but the effect was somewhat lost with her myopic squint.  “We were caught and arrested for breaking into Dr. Jane Foster’s apartment because you wanted to study the giant hammer in person and I wanted to prove to you that aliens didn’t exist.”

His face lit up with excitement.  “Did I get to touch Mjölnir?  Did we meet Thor?”

“No.  We were caught breaking in by an old man who wasn’t wearing pants.  He proved very distracting which allowed his companions to overcome us.”

He digested this slowly.  “Were we attacked by Thor?  Or one of the other Heroes of New York?  Was I knocked out by Iron Man?  We’re you able to observe his repulsor weapons?”

“No, but at least you were defeated by a famous scientist.”

“Oh?”  He was starting to wish he could remember this potentially embarrassing episode.

“Neil deGrasse Tyson hit you over the head with a lamp.”  She scoffed.  “I was tazed by a _political science major_.  She didn’t even have a master’s degree!”

He squirmed against his restraints.  “I think you may be right about the cognitive deficits.  I could have sworn you said I was knocked unconscious by Neil deGrasse Tyson in Jane Foster’s apartment while trying to study Thor’s hammer.”

“No, you have it right.  Apparently Dr. Tyson was there to play chess with the pants-less guy.  The police said his name was Erik Selvig.”

His eyes widened in awe.  “We met Erik Selvig?”

“SHELDON!”

A thin, blonde woman in a cream suit and sky-high heels burst into the room, followed by a harried-looking nurse.

“Penny?”  Sheldon turned to Amy, glowering in judgment.  “Just what kind of perverted dream _are_ you having?”

“It’s not a dream,” Amy sighed, then frowned at Penny.  “What _are_ you doing here?”

The nurse shrugged.  “Oh good, they both know you.  You two okay with this one acting as your next of kin, because it would make it easier for the cops and all.”

“Cops?”  Penny looked alarmed.  “The admitting nurse called Leonard’s phone.  He was giving his talk so I answered.  What happened?”

Sheldon nearly whimpered.  “Oh, Penny, it’s been terrible.  Amy says we’re here because we tried to study Mjölnir and I was knocked out and arrested.  And I don’t remember if I got any good data or not!”

“Meow-near?” Penny was sadly used to trying to parse useful information out of her friends’ overly technical statements.  “Is that like Schroeder’s cat?”  Her brain cut through the noise suddenly.  “Why were you arrested?”

Sheldon gave a long-suffering sigh.  “No, Penny.  You’re thinking of Schrödinger’s cat, and it’s not an actual cat.  If it was, the study becomes an increasingly moot point the longer the cat stays in the box.  Mjölnir is in fact a real object, and is rumored to have unique physical properties that merit further study.”

“It’s _rumored_ to exist,” Amy sniffed.  “What Sheldon doesn’t remember is that we never did find this ‘Mjölnir,’” she made air quotes with her cuffed hands.  “And therefore no research was actually carried out on this unproven object.”

Penny glanced at the uniformed officer coming in the door, then gave the two scientists a suspicious look.  “And where exactly were you carrying out these experiments on Meow-Mix?”

“No, Penny.  Mjölnir.  We were trying to study _Mjölnir_.”

“And we have no evidence of it even existing!” Amy chimed in as a buxom brunette followed the cop into the room.

“Oh, Mew-Mew.”  The brunette crossed her arms and glared at Sheldon and Amy.  “So that’s why you two _morons_ broke into the apartment and freaked out poor Erik and PBS-Guy.  Couldn’t you just pay fifty bucks for charity and try to lift the giant hammer at Comic-Con like every other geek?”

“Comic-Con?” Penny’s eyes widened.  “Oh God, please tell me you did not break into Thor’s home to steal his giant hammer.”

“Of course not,” Sheldon shook his head.  “We broke into his girlfriend, Dr. Jane Foster’s apartment, while she was giving her talk.  And we weren’t going to steal it.  We were perfectly capable of studying the item in the apartment.”

“No, we couldn’t Sheldon, because it doesn’t exist.  It’s just a prop the government used to convince the people that the _good_ alien helped save us from the _bad_ aliens, who all mysteriously were upright, bipedal humanoids and not frat boys in rubber suits.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows, “Hoo, boy.  And what makes these two such experts on aliens?”

Penny rolled her eyes, “She has a Ph.D. in neuroscience.  He’s a theoretical physicist.”

“Physics, huh?” Darcy gave Sheldon a skeptical look.  “So’s my boss.  I have to say, you theoretical physicists are pretty crappy at recognizing aliens, and that was before Erik got his brains all scrambled by Horn Head.”  She turned to Penny for support.  “I mean, come on.  You’ve seen Thor on T.V.  You can’t be that buff _and_ be able to explain Einstein Bagel Bridges and still be human.”

Penny nodded in agreement.

Amy gave Sheldon a long, considering look.  “The Taser-wielding intern has a solid hypothesis.”  She looked back up at the ceiling, “But that still doesn’t prove that Mjölnir exists, much less that it has unusual properties.  Nor does it explain the statistical improbability that alien worlds would produce intelligent species that are bipedal humanoids, much less ones that look just like humans.”  She glared at Penny and Darcy.

Penny gave her a skeptical glare right back.  “Says the woman dressed in the Star Fleet uniform.”

“She’s right, Amy,” Sheldon sighed.  “While your arguments are well-made, if erroneous, your conclusions are undermined by your choice of costume.”

“I should have gone as Ripley.  At least _Alien_ was a semi-realistic depiction of an organism with a significantly divergent evolutionary history.”

Penny turned to Darcy.  “Is your boss like this?”

Darcy shrugged.  “Jane speaks gobbeldy-gook and has no common sense, but she tends to just trespass in government facilities instead of private homes.”

“Does she wear the costumes too?”

“Nah,” Darcy snorted.  “It’s hard enough getting her to wash when she gets her science on.  Thor’s the clothes horse.”  She turned back to scowl at Sheldon, who’s ears had perked up at the mention of aliens again.  “Of course, now that Erik is upset, I’ll be lucky if he and the Star Man aren’t playing strip chess when I get back.  We like the keep Erik calm.  It keeps him mostly dressed.”

The cop stepped forward, having heard enough.  “So, you can confirm that you,” he pointed to Penny, “know these two idiots, and can join us at the station when we book them, and you,” he pointed to Darcy, “have positively ID’d these two as the perps who broke into the apartment.”

“Yes,” both women nodded.  Penny sighed.  “Do you have any idea how much bail will be?”

The officer shook his head.  “Well, that government agency, um, SHELL?”

“SHIELD,” Darcy corrected.

“Right, SHIELD.  It no longer exists, so the guys in the dark suits probably aren’t going to come take you off to some third world prison or whatever it is they do to whoever messes with their people.  Of course, the CIA may have taken over that role, so they might just shoot you and we’ll never find your bodies.  On the other hand, this Thor person might be considered a foreign diplomat, in which case the UN might have to get involved.”

Penny blanched.

“Plus,” the cop continued.  “We have you for breaking and entering, harassment, destruction of property, disturbing the peace and possibly stalking, pending further investigation.  And of course, you never know if the aliens are also going to want to have a say after the UN.”

Darcy didn’t bat an eye.

“But, if the tall blond guy having the loud argument in the hall is Thor, he’s probably just going to let the dark-haired lady strangle you both.”

“Ooh, Jane sounds mad,” Darcy gave a toothy grin.  “Hopefully He-Man can convince her to just let the judge throw the book at you.”

A loud knock sounded at the door and Iron Man poked his head in.  “Sheldon?” he asked in a robotic voice.

Sheldon blinked at the unexpectedly short Avenger, then looked back at Amy.  “I’m starting to believe this isn’t a dream.  You usually aren’t the type to mix fandoms.”

Penny glared at the clanking, armor-clad man as he lumbered into the room.  “Leonard, why did you wear your costume to the hospital?”

“Aww,” Leonard pulled off his headpiece, revealing some impressive helmet head.  “You knew it was me?  I had already put it on before I got your message and it’s too bulky to carry on the bus.”  Penny did not look impressed.  “And it’s hard to take off by myself.  Hey, the kids in the ER loved it.”

Penny shook her head.  “Leonard, Amy and Sheldon got arrested for trying to steal Thor’s hammer.  And I don’t mean that really strong espresso at _Starbucks_.”

“Really?  Did you get to touch Mjölnir?”

“ _Leonard!_ ”

“Right, um, that’s very . . . bad,” he opened his mouth to speak, but his brain caught up before he could say something rash.  “Wait a minute, you tried to steal from a Norse god, who controls  _lightning_ , and helped save us from an alien invasion?  Are you nuts?”

“ _Alleged_ alien invasion!”

“We weren’t going to steal it, Leonard.”

“Oh God,” Leonard leaned against the wall unsteadily.  “How much is bail going to be?”

The cop looked sympathetic.  “Probably more than your costume.  Last I checked, Dr. Foster, who _lives_ in that apartment was calling someone named Pepper and asking to be transferred to Stark Industries Legal Department.”

Leonard blanched.  Penny just looked embarrassed.  “Was, um, this Pepper person, um, coming here?”

The cop shrugged.  “Don’t know.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find out if I need to take them in and if this one,” he pointed to Sheldon, “is coherent enough to have his rights read.”

Penny and Leonard immediately turned on Amy and Sheldon as soon as the door closed.  Darcy opened a bag of _Peanut M &M’s_ and got comfortable, sitting down on an empty visitor’s chair to enjoy the show. 

“Are you two out of your minds?!”

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Will they take a credit card?”

“I don’t think we have enough credit.”

“Maybe Howard and Bernadette can help.”

“Are you hurt?”

“You were unconscious?”

“How long were you knocked out for?”

“Are you _crazy_?”

“ _NO!_ ” Sheldon had had enough interrogation.  “Clearly we were quite rational and doing this for _science_.”

“And I dared him to prove it,” Amy couldn’t look them in the eye.  “I’m sorry, Sheldon.  It was just so exciting and you were just so . . . sexy when you threw caution to the wind and started picking the lock.  I didn’t think we would get caught, and I certainly didn’t think anyone would get hurt, especially you.  And I never thought we would frighten Dr. Selvig.”  She peeked at Darcy.  “Please tell him and Dr. Foster that I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, Amy,” Sheldon turned to Darcy.  “Why was Dr. Selvig not wearing pants?”

“Sheldon!” Penny looked outraged.  “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

“No,” Sheldon looked affronted.  “I don’t remember any of this happening.”

“Neil deGrasse Tyson knocked him out with a lamp,” Amy explained, glumly.

Penny and Leonard shared a look.  “Damn it, Sheldon” Leonard groaned.  “Did you manage to offend _every_ prominent physicist during this little adventure of yours?”

“No,” Sheldon frowned.  “As far as I’ve been told, I haven’t run into Bruce Banner yet.”

“That’s because we missed his talk when you almost started a brawl over String Theory during the poster session.”

“Can theoretical physicists have a brawl?” Darcy asked.

Penny rolled her eyes, “Only when they bring their role-playing weapons.  Calculators and tablet computers aren’t heavy enough anymore.”

The cop knocked on the door and poked his head in.  “Dr. Foster and Mr. um, Odinson would like to speak with the accused.”

“Really?”  Sheldon’s grin was blinding.

“Sheldon,” Leonard’s suit make a clunking sound as he put his hands on his hips.  “You broke into their home.  At least _try_ to look apologetic.”

“Well I don’t remember doing it!”

A small, dark-haired woman in a rumpled skirt and blouse entered, followed by a blond giant of a man dressed in well-tailored slacks and button down without a tie.  The man was pushing a metal medical cart ahead of him and glared at the assembled parties.  They were followed by a quiet, dark-haired man who took a seat next to Darcy, sharing her _M &M’s_.

“Esteemed Officer Willis, I take it the two bound fiends are ones who invaded my lady’s chamber?”

“Did we?” Sheldon looked to Amy for confirmation.  “Because sir, if this is Dr. Foster, I want to assure you I have no interest in her chamber.”

“We only got as far as the living room,” Amy was gaping at Thor’s arms, straining against his rolled up sleeves.  “Unfortunately.”

Even Leonard rolled his eyes.  “Amy, you’re not helping your case.”

Thor turned to face the others, his ‘beware, puny mortals’ face on at full power.  “And who are these people?”

Penny backed up behind Leonard, clutching at his armor.

“They’re the friends of the accused,” Officer Willis piped up.  “These two idiots’ emergency contacts are each other, and their next of kin are all out of state.”

Thor eyed Leonard’s costume suspiciously.  “And have you come prepared for battle to settle this dispute?”  He flexed his arms.  “You may be suited like the Man of Iron, but I assure you, I have sparred with that honorable warrior and you do not seem a confident opponent.”  A small metallic bang came from the cart, as if Thor had accidently kicked it.

Leonard tried to hide behind Penny, but wasn’t dexterous enough in his costume to pull it off.  “This?  Oh, no, this isn’t for battle,” he laughed nervously, his voice rising to a painful squeak.  “This is just, um, a _homage_ to Iron Man, which I was going to wear to a party tonight.  Right?”  Penny nodded in confirmation.  The dark-haired man rolled his eyes as he swallowed another candy.  Darcy giggled.

“I see.  If you two are not here to fight on behalf of your comrades, then we will settle this dispute directly.”  Thor knelt down and opened a metal door on the cart, then drew out a large hammer.  With great dignity, he placed it on top of the cart, handle pointing toward the sky.  “You have broken into my adopted home, frightened my good friends Selvig and the Son of Ty, and have kept friend Bruce from a lecture he wished to attend.”  Bruce gave a lax wave.  Jane crossed her arms.  “And you are keeping us all from our dinner.”

Darcy opened up a new bag of _Mint M &M’s_, taking a few before passing the whole thing to Bruce.  “And that’s not cool, because you really wouldn’t like Dr. B when he gets hangry.”  Bruce nodded, downing the green candies.

Leonard did a double take, “You’re Bruce Banner.  I’ve been trying to meet with you all week to discuss your work with Mr. Stark on electromagnetic detection algorithims.”  Penny coughed.  “And I’m in a hospital, dressed as Iron Man.”

Bruce shrugged.  “I get that a lot.”

Thor nodded at Willis.  “Unshackle the prisoners, if you please.”  When Sheldon and Amy had been released, he beckoned them closer.  “This law officer reports that you entered our rooms seeking to steal Mjölnir.  The hammer is not some trinket to take, nor a prize to be won.  Mjölnir carefully chooses those it deems worthy of handling it.”

Amy smirked at the weapon.  “You seriously expect us to believe a ‘hammer’ chooses its owner?  Like a cat?”

Thor frowned, “There are some similarities, yes.”

“Mr, um, I mean Prince Odinson,” Sheldon tried valiantly to maintain eye contact without drooling on Mjölnir.  “We weren’t going to steal it.  We were just going to borrow it for a few _tiny_ experiments.”  Thor narrowed his eyes.  “And maybe make it fly.”

“As I was saying,” Thor continued.  “Mjölnir is an excellent judge of character, unbiased by petty concerns and unmoved by mortal passions.  I will let it measure your hearts and minds and so determine your fates.”

“Um, wait a minute,” Penny of course was the rational one.  “What happens if the hammer, um, finds them, um?”

“Unworthy?”  Thor’s voice was as cold as Jotunheim.

“Yeah, that.”

“Then they will face punishment.”

“I think we _should_ let Mjölnir decide,” Leonard spoke up before Penny could continue.  “It’s not like we can afford their bail anyway.”  Jane stared at him suspiciously as he gave Penny a subtle nod.

“Okaaaay, let’s not argue with the hot god.”

Darcy snickered.

“Very well,” Thor looked to Sheldon and Amy.  “State your name and try to lift the hammer.  If you are worthy, Mjölnir will know.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Sheldon reached for the long sought after brass ring.  “I am Dr. Sheldon Cooper, and I am worthy of your knowledge, mighty Mjölnir.”

The hammer didn’t budge.

“Um, I am worthy, mighty Mjölnir,” Sheldon gripped the hammer in both hands and pulled with all his strength.  The metal cart groaned and rolled slightly, but the hammer would not be moved.  Panting, Sheldon released his grip.  “It does know I have a Ph.D., yes?”

“Education does not make one worthy.  It must come from within.” He gestured to Amy, who was rolling her eyes as she came forward. 

“It’s just a hammer, it’s not going to judge anyth—”

The hammer lifted like a feather.

“Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my God!  Oh my _GOD_!  I’m worthy!  The hammer thinks I’m worthy!  The hammer thinks I’m worthy!”  Amy danced around, swinging the hammer.

Jane raised an eyebrow, “Well, I guess only one of them is truly guilty.”

Thor nodded, “Indeed.  We will let you say your goodbyes Dr. Cooper, but be quick.  Asgardian justice does not like to be kept waiting.”

“What?” Amy abruptly stopped dancing.

“I’m going to Asgard?” Sheldon looked inappropriately thrilled.

Leonard shuffled over and slapped Sheldon on the back.  “I’ll miss you, buddy.  I’ll make sure no one sits in your spot.”  He turned to Thor.  “So, how long does Mjölnir think he’ll have to serve?”

“Mjölnir is lenient,” the god shrugged.  “A few centuries of hard labor should be sufficient for him to learn the error of his ways.”

“Centuries?” Sheldon gasped as the threat sunk in.

“B-but,” Amy stammered.  “But humans don’t live for centuries.”

Jane shared a look with Thor.  “Oh, that’s too bad then.  But I’ve been to Asgard.  The prisons are well-kept and humane.”

“Yes, they are.  Good Officer Willis, if you will take him to your jail, I will have our security forces come to retrieve him.”

“But I can’t go to prison!” Sheldon was starting to get hysterical.  “Even if it’s a really, really awesome alien prison.”

Thor gave Jane a serious look.  “Do you think the punishment fits the crime?”

Jane glared at the two of them.

“ _Please!_ ” Sheldon fell to his knees.  “Please don’t send me to prison.  It will be like gym class, _for centuries_.”

“And if I’m worthy, then Sheldon must be too, because I was the one who didn’t believe Mjölnir was real and that you were an alien.  Please don’t take Sheldon to Asgard, at least not alone.  We’re equally unworthy.”

Penny looked on in amazement, “Never thought I’d hear that from her.”  The two scientists began to beg and plead in earnest, talking over each other in their efforts to gain mercy.

“Should we?” Thor looked to Leonard and Jane.

Jane shook her head and whispered.  “Erik was really shaken up.  Let them stew a while longer.”  Jane turned to go, tapping at her phone.   “Dr. Banner, could you help me calibrate the interstellar communication relay to Asgard?”

“Sure,” Bruce followed, hoping that was code for ‘Happy sent the private bus.’

By now the groveling involved tears and promises to name significant discoveries after Thor and Dr. Foster.  Amy seemed to have forgotten she was still holding the hammer.  When Sheldon reached a painful level of screeching Thor asked Leonard if he would like to do the honors.

For a moment, Leonard wore a truly evil grin.  “Oh, calm down.  You’re not going to Asgard.”

The pair quieted immediately.  “I’m not?” Sheldon asked.  “But I’m not worthy.”  He sniffed, “And Amy lifted Mjölnir, so I must have actually been the one who broke into the apartment.”

“And your Mjölnir must be wrong,” Amy’s lip quivered.  “Because I should have stopped Sheldon before this all got out of hand.”

“Oh, you broke in all right,” Leonard smirked.  “Bu you still haven’t touched Mjölnir.”

“But I couldn’t lift it,” Sheldon looked baffled.  “I pulled and pulled.  At my height I should have had sufficient leverage if Amy can hold it aloft.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, “They have magnets under the cart, Sheldon.”

“Damn!” Another bang sounded form the cart and the door opened.  “He figured us out.”

Amy stared at the hammer, still clutched in one hand.  “This isn’t Mjölnir?”  Leonard and Penny fought back laughter.

“Hell, no.  You really thought they would let you touch Mjölnir after all that?”

The man who had been inside the cart stood up and dusted himself off.  “We definitely need to do this trick in the Children’s Ward.”  He ran a hand through his hair and straightened out his rock tour t-shirt before looking over the assembled crowd.  He gave Leonard a nod, “Nice suit.  Any weapons systems?”

Leonard gaped until Penny elbowed him.  “Um, no, Mr. Stark, sir.  It does light up and charge cell phones though.”

“Well, good for you.  That’ll make you popular with the ladies.”  He gave Penny a wink before pulling a large magnet out of the cart.  Amy looked outraged.  Sheldon looked crushed.

“I am curious, mortal,” Thor peered at Leonard.  “How did you know it wasn’t the real Mjölnir?”

Leonard pointed the hammer in Amy’s hand.  “Because the Nordic runes on the side say ‘made in China.”

“Aha, so that’s where we went wrong,” Tony held his hand out for the surprisingly well-made children’s toy.  “Now that that’s settled, shall we actually get down to business?”

“Indeed,” Thor rumbled.  “Jane was most displeased by your antics, but considering that both she and myself have an unfortunate history of breaking into places we probably shouldn’t be in, we didn’t feel we could throw you to the authorities when we weren’t similarly punished ourselves.”

Tony clapped his hands, “So, we’re offering you a deal.”

“Oh?” Amy and Sheldon peered at the Heroes of New York curiously.  “What do you want us to do?”

“Jane says she will be satisfied with community service.  The attorneys who work for Mr. Stark will give you some proposals, but if you complete the necessary hours helping people, we will not press charges.”

“What type of service?” Sheldon asked, suspicious.

Tony shrugged, “That’s up to you.  Soup kitchen, old people home, Big Brothers.  Pep made up a list.”  He gave Sheldon a once over.  “Don’t do Big Brothers.”  Leonard and Penny nodded in agreement.

“So . . . we can go then?” Amy asked.  “You’ll drop the charges and we just have to do community service?”

“Well, you’ll have sign some documents with the lawyers,” Tony’s phone buzzed and he checked the text.  “Who just came in the lobby, but unless you’d rather go in front of a judge and try to get a better deal, then yes.”

“Take the deal,” Penny stage-whispered.

“Um, yes, of course, um, thank you Mr. Stark, and um, Mr. Alienson,” Amy nodded.

“Yes, thank you Prince Thor for your divine benevolence.”

“It is Jane you have to thank.  I expect letters of apology for both her and friend Selvig.”

“Of course, of course.”

Tony turned to go, but stopped at the door, “Amy Fowler, your name is familiar.”

“Really?” Amy perked up.  “It’s Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler, actually.  Maybe you read my paper about reconstituting complex neural pathways _in silico_?”

“Um, no.  I already have an AI who runs my life.”  He muttered her name to himself again, “Wait, I know.  You were a recipient of an Edwin Jarvis Fellowship in Science.  Of course.”

Amy preened.  “I didn’t know it was so well publicized.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.  “It’s not.  However, it is funded by the Maria Stark Foundation.  As is the Yinsen Freedom Award that your accomplice applied for.  And it’s up for renewal soon.” 

Thor joined Tony at the door, “You are most generous with your funds, Tony.”

“Do you think Jane would like to serve on the awards committee?”

“I’m sure she would be honored.”

Tony opened the door to let in the lawyers.  Amy and Sheldon sat down together on a gurney, subdued, but no longer frantic. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark, and Mr. Thor,” Penny offered her hand.  “Leonard and I are very grateful and I’m sure Amy and Sheldon will be later.”

Stark gestured at the two miscreants.  “We all do stupid things sometimes.”

Leonard held out a _Sharpie_ , looking hopeful.  “Mr. Stark, would you mind signing my suit?  If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but . . . but it was an honor being mistaken for you in the lobby.”

Tony and Thor shared an amused look as he took the marker and Leonard turned around.  “Was this for the social?  I couldn’t convince Pep to go this year.”  Leonard nodded.  “To Leonard . . .”

“Hofstadter,” Leonard hoped Tony wasn’t writing ‘Kick Me’ on his back, but at least he could tell people that Tony Stark himself had done it.

“Hofstadter?  With the lasers?”

“Um, yes, I work with lasers.”

“Huh,” Tony finished with a flourish.  “Brucie was very disappointed to miss your talk.  You should join us for dinner.”

“Bruce Banner wanted to hear my talk?” Leonard tried to straighten up, but almost fell over.  Penny rushed over to steady him.  “Really?”

“Oh yeah, he thought you might be able to help us with a targeting problem.”  He leaned out into the hall, “Big Green!  We found Hofstadter!”  He turned back to Leonard, “Come on, Bruce is a lot more fun after he’s fed.”

“Hold on,” he turned to Penny.  “Is that okay with you?”

Penny smiled, “I’m not going to cry because I missed the Physics Prom, Leonard.  Go.”

“Girlfriend?” Tony asked.

“Fiancée,” Leonard put his arm around her.  “This is Penny.”

“Sharp dresser, and you keep him in line.  Pepper will love you.  Come on.”

Darcy came up behind them.  “Please come with us.  I need a normal person to talk to.  Pepper is nice, but intimidating, and Ian stayed behind to make sure Erik and Lord of the Planets don’t get into the liquor cabinet.”

Penny smiled at Tony.  “Thank you, Mr. Stark.  I will.”

A cough sounded from across the room.  Everyone turned to see Amy and Sheldon grinning at them hopefully, while the lawyers shuffled papers.

“Oh, I forgot, I’m so sorry.”  Penny came over to the two forlorn scientists, “Here’s some tokens for the bus back to the hotel.  Bye!”  She hurried back to help Leonard through the door.

“That’s amazing,” Tony watched in wonderment.  “She’s like a blonde Pepper, managing a crazy pack of me’s.  Well, sort of me.  Maybe me and DUM-E and Butterfingers if they could talk and had PhD’s.”

Thor slapped him on the back as he followed him out the door.  “Never fear, Tony.  There is only one you, thank the Allfather.”

Darcy went next, but stopped and turned in the doorway.  “Oh, I almost forgot, Dr. Son of Ty wanted me to tell you he’s not sorry he knocked you out, and he’s _really_ not sorry about the whole Pluto thing anymore.  Bye!”  With a curtsy, she closed the door.

Amy and Sheldon blinked in the silence until the lawyer cleared his throat.

“Magnets?” Sheldon bristled.  “We were fooled by _magnets_?”

“I think I lost my funding for next year,” Amy slumped.  “I’m going to have to apply for grants all over again.”

“Magnets!  And Leonard figured it out!”  He stared at Amy, “And we didn’t.”

The lawyer cleared his throat again.  Amy urged Sheldon to pay attention. 

“Come on, Sheldon.  Let’s get this over with.  Then we can go and get a nice CAT scan or a functional MRI of our heads, because clearly, we were out of our minds tonight.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have let alcohol and cosplay mix.”

They both picked up their copies of the agreement.

“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I salute Neil deGrasse Tyson. I know he is a real person and any resemblance to the real person is strictly coincidental. Since Dr. Tyson did play himself on the _Big Bang Theory_ , I hope it's not bad form to depict the fictional version of him.
> 
> I also acknowledge that I have no idea WTH Leonard studies. I'm not a physicist, though I made a valiant effort to try to understand the character's Wikipedia page to no avail. So yes, I hang my scientist head in shame about that comic book science hand waving. I have no idea why Bruce and Tony want to work with Leonard, but trust that maybe he does.
> 
> I also am pretty sure there isn't a costume social as part of a prestigious physics conference, but I once saw a woman in Christmas antlers at the _American Society for Cell Biology_ Social, so there totally should be a Physics Prom with rival Spock factions. And I hope someone writes that. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Will try to post as editing and last chapter is completed.


End file.
